


Daily Grind

by AlphieCentauri



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Human AU, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-12 20:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10498647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphieCentauri/pseuds/AlphieCentauri
Summary: Be careful how much you spill to your barista. Especially if he doesn't talk much.You'll never realize how well he actually knows you.





	1. Six Shot Soy Almond Latte With White Chocolate Caramel Coconut Hazelnut and Vanilla Extra Hot No Foam Caramel Chocolate Drizzle Extra Whip and A Sprinkle of Cinnamon and Nutmeg

It’s the worst order he’s ever had to make.   
  
All five flavor shots, split between five flavors: vanilla, hazelnut, caramel, coconut, and white chocolate. Vanilla and White chocolate steamed with soy milk. The other three with almond milk. Four shots of espresso line the bottom of the drink before half the milk is poured in, in the aforementioned order. Stop halfway with the caramel steamed milk, add another double shot before finishing the milk. Should any extra foam get in that drink, so help you god. Top with whipped cream with a crosshatch drizzle of chocolate in one direction, caramel in the other direction and sprinkled with cinnamon and nutmeg.   
  
Let it all be added that it needed to be prepared extra hot, unless it was the summer and the drink needs to be extra cold, and ready in five minutes, but it can’t be watered down and don’t you dare let there be excess. He paid for that entire drink, and there’s not a chance in hell that  _ you _ are going to try it.

 

To make it worse, the guy is there  _ every _ morning. Without a single days reprieve. As far as anyone knows, he comes on days he’s sick, on holidays, weekends -- no one can vouch for him ever skipping a day.

 

Link has been there eight months. He’s made this drink now, 243 times. He knows it by heart, and from what he recalls, he’s the only one who this problem customer deems to make it right. Or as close to right as ‘that old barista’ used to make. Thankfully, he’s never experienced the misfortune of having to ring in the drink. But if he knows how to read that cup well enough, he’d be able to figure it out should he ever be required to.

 

He hopes he never has to.

 

He’s eternally grateful to know Mipha, the opening shift manager, is typically the one to take the order. Link doesn’t know much about him past his face and name and something about being the founder of some local business. His name’s Barty. Despite his drink order being the most convoluted thing he’s ever had to partake in creating, he doesn’t seem to be the worst guy on the planet. Just the sort of guy who expects everything to be done, exactly as he wants it in the fastest manner possible. He always leaves tips, nothing extravagant (although Link thinks he should), he always raves about how he’d love to buy the place, and how it’s a shame he can’t.

 

Mipha is a sweet girl, a few years Link’s senior. She’s been with the cafe, Drinks Awakening, for a few years now. And it shows. She knows the cafe better than anyone, including the regulars who sometimes vanish for a few months at a time, and return to go back to their old standby. She’s a small girl, next to Link, around five feet tall with long, dark hair often pulled into a braid and sometimes styled upwards with bobby pins. She and Link had their dates, never really going anywhere, but they were enjoyable. Very much so. Every morning when she comes in, Link has typically been working the overnight shift by the time she arrives, and no matter how early, she greets him with a smile and a few words of encouragement. Nothing quite like her brothers words, but positivity clearly runs in their family.

 

Mipha always arrives at six in the morning for her shift, and her brother comes in at eight, when Link usually gets to leave for the day. He often has to come back later for the closing shift again. Mipha’s younger brother, Sidon, dwarfs Link. Whatever height may have run in their family, Sidon inherited it all, reaching well past six and a half feet. He shares the same, dark red hair Mipha has and keeps it pulled into a ponytail, which management continuously suggests he cut off. He clearly has no intentions to do so, and lets it sway behind him as he walks. Link enjoys his company, and the rare shift they share together. Sidon usually works on the bar like Link does, so their overlapping shifts are infrequent. Just a little bit of time with him, and Link feels unstoppable. A shift with both Mipha and Sidon is a surefire way to make sure no one feels insecure.

 

When Sidon comes in, it’s Links cue that he can relax for the day. Barty has already come and gone, and he knows he doesn’t have another nightmare of a drink to make. Sidon clasps a friendly hand on Links shoulder, smiling brightly before he begins to tie on his apron. “Calm morning as usual, yes?” he asks, as Link nods curtly. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you did great today --”

 

“Excuse me,” The jingle of the bell above the door interrupts the employees. There’s a soft snapping sound following up with the bell and the chiming voice that demands to be listened to. In the doorway of the cafe stood a crisply dressed young man, hair slicked back with shark, piercing green eyes. “My father directed me here to supervise the lot of you, and to determine whether or not you’ll be worth my time.”

 

Should grimaces make noises, the three staffers would have made such a sound. Link suspected it would’ve been a wet, squishing sound manifesting in unison of three individuals who experienced the same disgust at the same moment.

 

The employees of Drinks Awakening weren’t unaccustomed to the pompous regulars. They happened more frequently than they’d like, and this new guest was an indication of someone they could either willingly shove away by giving poor service to, from the sounds of it. Or someone they could either have a good laugh over.

 

“There’s no way he’s Ganon’s son,” Mipha whispered, almost nervously to her brother and Link as the young man approached the register. “He doesn’t have a son, does he?” Despite their huddling, the young man leans against the counter, tapping on the fake marble for a moment.

 

“No, not Ganon, who I’m aware is the owner -- Bartholomew. He’s my father, and he’s been raving about this little hole in the wall for years. Constantly tells me that someone here makes the best coffees he’s ever had, so I thought --” He shrugs momentarily before sweeping a hand through his already brushed back hair. “Name’s Revali. Since I’m about to follow in his footsteps professionally, why not do the same in regards to his tastes. Pick up whatever it is he drinks every day. So, if you don’t mind.”

There’s a moment amongst the workers where they have to process what it is that he’d just said. Barty? Their regular with the most asinine drink on the planet? He had a son. None of them had ever heard about him before. This was their first time learning about the guy, and here he was, barging in, insisting on a second creation of their most lamented beverage.

 

“Th-the exact same?” Mipha asked quietly, a little surprised that she had to type in the order for a second time that day. Exchanging looks with Link, his shoulders sag and he opens the cooler to retrieve the soy and almond milk that he had become so familiar with.

 

The young man flashes Mipha a playful smirk. “You heard me; what’s the damage.”

 

Sounding a little startled, Mipha punches in the order and looks toward Link who has already pulled out several cups to begin portioning the different syrups. “$9.68, please.” She says, waiting for the guest to retrieve a card or his wallet, or some indication of payment. But instead, his expression falls, his sharp eyes narrowing upon standing upright. He clears his throat, adjusting the navy blue blazer that wrapped cleanly around his torso.

 

“I’m sorry?” he says, sounding displeased. “Are you trying to tell me my father pays nearly  _ ten bucks _ everyday for a  _ drink _ ?”

 

Link is midsteam when he hears the guests tone of voice, offering a glance to Sidon who has already begun to position himself behind his sister.

 

“W-well, yes.” Mipha begins to squeak out. “He pays for several different add-ons. His drink is very elaborate.”

 

His lip twitches, and a sneer becomes evident upon his face as he rather begrudgingly reaches within his jacket to retrieve his wallet. As if to add insult to injury to the staff for the price of his drink, a very noticeable lump of cash peeks from within the leather folds. “You’re lucky I make that much in a minute, or I’d be pissed.” Hastily, and with some fumbling, Mipha swipes his card before handing it back.   
  
He doesn’t tip.   
  
Instead, he stands at the bars end, watching as Link continues the chemistry required to make such a beverage. “What  _ are _ you doing?” he asks hotly, brow quirked as Link pours the second doubleshot into the drink before layering the various flavored milks. Link simply looks up to him, makes eyecontact with Revali and continues. “Hey,” Revali barks. “I asked a question, answer me.”

 

“Making your drink.” Link replies, his tone even, despite wanting to raise it to silence the guest. He pulls another doubleshot and resumes the drink.

 

“But why  _ like that _ ?” Revali gestures at the multiple cups. “There’s  _ no way _ my father was that particular.”

 

“Oh, but he was.” Sidon intervenes, knowing his coworkers preference for working in silence. “He was very picky by how we prepared his drink, and often cited that this man making your drink is the best we have.” He offers Revali a bright smile as Link continues his silent construction. He might not say it, but he is grateful for the intervention.

 

There’s a moment longer of Link’s construction before he tops the drink with whipped cream, and its final fixing before he lifts it to the edge of the bar. He doesn’t wait a second more and instantly pulls his apron off, not even sticking around to hear Revali’s reaction to the drink. It’s past eight in the morning and he’s ready to snag a couple of hours of sleep.

 

Of course, he can’t ignore the sputtering and the angry declaration of “What  _ is _ this crap?!”   
  
Link’s back hasn’t even turned to face Revali before he has to turn around to examine the face of the annoyed customer at the bar. His mouth is now covered by his hand, wiping his lips aggressively with a napkin. “This has  _ got  _ to be wrong. There’s absolutely  _ no way _ my dad would drink this crap.” 

 

Sidon is behind Link, prepared to defend him already, but there’s no need. Link lets him rave for a moment, complaining about the drink.

 

“Your dad drank it and liked it.” Link says quietly as he grabs a rag to clean off one of the steaming wands. “I don’t know what’s wrong then.”

 

“You’re just making it wrong because I’m not him, that’s all it is. Obviously.”

 

Revali turns after that. He turns and Link drops his apron on the counter, heaving out a sigh. He’s not one to use coarse language, but he’s never wanted to tell someone to go fuck themselves so much in his life.

 

As it were, this would not be the last encounter with Revali. Just the first of many. And as it were, Revali would prove to be not as much of a jackass as previously thought.   
  
As time would progress, Revali would worm his way into the lives of the employees of Drinks Awakening. He would learn how to flatter Mipha, complimenting how easily she wore a smile in the morning. He’d be charmed by Sidon’s overwhelming positivity, agreeing with it entirely as a means of stroking his own ego. He would meet the cafes other employees, the night manager who lived in the apartment next door with her far-too-many dogs for one person. The two of three triplets who often liked to secretly trade shifts with one another without anyones realization. And the regulars who would defend the cafes staff to the death.

 

But what would draw Revali back time and time again, was that silent, but sharp-tongued barista who had apparently perfected his fathers drink. Revali would find himself spilling juicy stories about himself, his family and everything in his life to the quiet man behind the bar. And it wouldn’t be long until he realized how much the boy behind the bar knew about him.

 

And how he didn’t know a damn thing in return.

 


	2. Baristas Choice

Link manages to get home after that and score himself a few hours of sleep. He often has classes between two in the afternoon and eight at night. He works himself ragged most days. He works eight hour work shifts on school days, and often attempts doubles on his days off. No one at Drinks Awakening has the gall to tell him to take some time off, as he usually brushes off their concern with a gentle hand wave and a reassurance that he hasn’t bitten off too much. They don’t need to know he’s exhausted, they all work and go to school as well. His burden’s nothing he needs to bother them with. It’s why he chooses to simply listen to his customers as he makes their drinks. 

 

It’s on his way to class that Link stops back in. He needs to put a few ounces of caffeine into his system before he can bring himself to focus on anything else. Mipha is just clocking out when he arrives, her 6-2 shifts aren’t for everyone but she knows how to handle them with finesse. She offers Link a smile as he comes in. “You feeling better from this morning?” She asks, knowing that Revali’s presence that morning was enough to rattle him. “Hopefully we won’t have to deal with him again, if that’s how he reacted.” Link only shrugs, not sure how he truly felt about the problem customer.

 

Sidon is still at the bar when Link gets to the register where one of the part-timers has punched in to ring him out. He’s a blonde kid with thin, almost squinty eyes that indicate he likely needs glasses. “H’llo, Link -- the usual today?” the kid asks cheerfully. All the cheer aside, Link knows -- this kid is not who he says he is.

 

“Yes.” A pause. “Fado, if you’re going to switch shifts with Makar you don’t have to pretend you’re him. You can put your glasses on.” The kid looks around, glancing toward one of the corner booths where another blonde kid, exclaims ‘Dang it!’ relatively loudly before taking off a pair of glasses and ushering them over to the counter. Link has to stifle his laughter.   
  
Fado, Makar, and their sister Saria -- are triplets. Two of the three of them work for Drinks Awakening part time. Fado and Makar often like to try and trick their employees by switching places, but of course, some of the more seasoned workers have seen past their tricks. The triplets are all still in high school: seniors. Fado and Makar started working as per their moms request. Saria, though a regular even without her brothers employment, takes all AP courses so she finds work would just slow down her academics.

“You’re getting good at that,” Makar -- much wider eyes than Fado, who desperately needs his glasses -- announces, leaning on the counter. “I’m cash tomorrow you know. We get to work together. It’s been  _ soo _ long!”

 

It takes Link a moment, looking from the two boys before he questions, “Why aren’t you in school?”

 

“State testing,” Fado shrugs, adjusting his glasses so he can see again. “We got out at twelve. Saria’s probably just getting out now.” Hm. Link assesses the situation and  _ supposes _ having the triplets around for a few days might lighten the atmosphere. The two boys usually only work on weekends, so having them around for a few days sounds almost exciting. Link fishes out the three and some change for his drink and slides it down for Fado once he rings it out.

 

He leaves the two boys for a moment to lean on the bar where Sidon is making his drink for him. It’s somewhere between a cafe au lait and a red eye. He’s not sure what to call it, but he just knows he likes it. Sidon is the only other person who knows how to make it the way he likes, but he doesn’t get stressed if someone else has to hop on for it. It’s a dark roast coffee, usually French Roast, with a double shot of espresso (god knows he needs it), with steamed chocolate almond milk and a few squirts of toffee. It’s probably sweeter than he needs it to be, but it’s exactly what he likes to get him through the day. He’s never been so grateful for a fifty percent discount.

 

“You seem more relaxed,” Sidon comments warmly. Where Link is often silent as a barista, Sidon’s a chatterbox. He loves to talk to people waiting for their drinks, make their wait a little more pleasant. Link personally finds that most people often get irritated with him when he attempts to make small talk. “I slipped a fifth shot in here for you, you have that night class tonight, don’t you?”

 

Link let an annoyed groan slip. He’d forgotten entirely about it. He nods, grateful for Sidon’s foresight and rests his head on the bar, tired eyes staring forward and unblinking.

 

So much for scoring another few hours of sleep after class that night.

 

“You work with Midna tonight, in case you needed a little pick me up. She’ll let you rest if you need to.” Sidon smiles at him, and sets his drink up before giving him an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder. “You’ve got this, I have complete faith in you.”

  
  


With the reassurance from Sidon, Link relaxes. Drink in hand he waves goodbye (for now) to his coworkers before leaving for classes. He’ll be back a few hours later for yet another midnight to eight shift. Truly, he doesn’t mind those shifts. He swears.   
  
He’s majoring in Communications. Ironic, really. But he knows it will take him in the direction it needs to. He’s working on courses in ASL as a fallback. At one point he considered teaching, but he’s not sure if that direction is ideal for him. He’s preferably non-verbal, and having to speak more than he’s comfortable doesn’t sound like the best option. He’s still young. He has plenty of time to figure something out. He supposes that’s what he likes about working at Drinks Awakening. Plenty of opportunities to network. Make connections. Be inspired. Or something.    
  
He’s sitting in one of his last gen-ed courses, just a basic English course. Next to him sits Zelda -- a long term friend from his neighborhood as a kid. Somehow, the two of them, without knowledge of the other, had applied and were accepted to the same university. On the opposite side of the state. It had turned out to be pretty convenient for the two of them. They had the opportunity to share an apartment together, which made living in an unfamiliar city much easier on them both.  Neither of them are in the same department together. Link settled with his Communications, while Zelda has her nose buried in Anthropology and Mechanical Engineering. Often, when people cross paths with them, they expect their majors to be flipped, but not a chance.

 

“I heard you had quite the nasty customer this morning,” Zelda commented to Link quietly, amidst the hum of their professor discussing the meaning of a particular text they were reviewing. Zelda doesn’t work at Drinks Awakening, but she frequents the cafe enough to know the employees well enough. “Mipha mentioned to me that he dragged Barty’s drink after you made it.” Without looking up from her notebook, Link catches her smile as they speak.

 

“I’m pretending he didn’t happen.” He says lowly as he scrawls out the words ‘stream of consciousness’ on his page. He scribbles idly on the corner of the page as Zelda sits upright, faintly trying to egg him on to continue. 

 

“You’re always going to have problem customers, you know.” She adds. “Best to just deal with them as they come.”

 

Truth be told, Link had actually found himself dwelling on his long-term regulars son. He’d gotten under his skin. Naturally, if Link had found himself swearing at the guy in his head.   
  
Revali had rubbed him the wrong way.   
Rarely do customers make him that irritated with them.  Often, he’s quite good at just brushing off the negativity of other people, and can bury himself in the work he’s preoccupied himself with. But there was something about how Revali talked to him. How he mouthed off to Mipha -- it pissed him off. 

 

Maybe it was in the way his eyes narrowed, and he practically smirked as he spoke down to the group. Maybe it was the entitled way he spoke. How he felt like he deserved better than his father. 

 

Maybe it was how even with that attitude he didn’t leave a tip. 

 

Link wasn’t able to focus on his classes for the rest of the day. Zelda was right, he really ought to deal with bad customers as they came, but Revali had gotten under his skin. The staff at Drinks Awakening were family for him, and he wasn’t about to let it go. Especially if the guy was going to potentially come back. He was absolutely prepared to tell the guy once he came back that based on his performance, he wasn’t welcome there. He wasn’t a manager, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have a hard time convincing the others.

  
  
  


“Listen, hun.”   
  
Midna’s a short girl, a bit on the heavy side with fiery red hair that everyone has a hard telling if it’s natural or not. She leans against the counter, nails clicking against the counter. Midna lives in the apartment over the cafe with several rescue dogs she’s picked up off the street. No one’s really sure how many she actually owns as the number always seems to change. The girl is practically noctural, always working the overnight shift with Link from ten in the evening until six when Mipha arrives. There’s something akin to a goth flare to her; it’s in the makeup. So the overnight shift is too appropriate for her.

 

“As much as I’d  _ loooove _ to ban the guy,” she hums as she begins to swap out change from the tip jar for larger bills. “He’s only gone as far as be a jackass. When he starts to really be a dick to  _ all _ of us, then we’ll talk to the Big Guy next time he stops in.”

 

The Big Guy in question is the cafes owner, some guy named Ganon whom Link has only had the misfortune of meeting twice. He’s one of those cold, dictatorial owners -- Friendly upon first meeting and in passing, but a complete terror when he’s evaluating work performance. When Ganon comes in, suddenly anyone with even the slightest indication of slacking is at their absolute best, and performing to the nines. 

 

It’s currently around five in the morning, meaning within the hour people are going to start trickling in to pick up their morning coffee on their way to their nine to fives. Working with Midna is usually a nice reprieve for Link. She usually lets him hang out doing his homework when people aren’t popping in and out during the night. It’s a college town so it’s not like he doesn’t have to make an eight shot latte at three in the morning. Usually he finds himself sitting at one of the tables closest to the bar, his computer open, writing a paper, or researching for a project. She  _ gets _ that he’s overworked. That he’s taken off way more than he should be able to comfortably handle. She’s not even past letting Link take a nap in the break room if he needs it.

 

“I don’t want to have to make anything for him, if he’s going to give Mipha attitude like that.” Link says lowly. “Why should we have to do something for us if he’s going to give us crap?”

 

Midna rolls her eyes and strolls past Link, patting him on the back as she goes to empty a garbage she’s been neglecting for the past two hours. “Give the guy a chance. Just ‘cause someone’s a dick the first time doesn’t mean they’re gonna be one forever.” She snorts a bit as she slides the can out of the cupboard its stored in, and then laughs loudly. “Pfft, no, seriously -- if he’s a dick, just deal with it. Fuck him.” She pauses, tapping her finger against her chin. “On second thought, if he’s hot,  _ actually _ fuck him.”

 

“I’d rather not.” Link says quietly as he ends up logging on to social media instead of checking some article for his work. He’s not looking for anything in particular, but he needs to tear his eyes away from his coursework, and he’s not about to start cleaning the espresso machines this early.

 

He’s not sure what he is. He’s had his relationships. With guys. Girls. He’s dated both Sidon and Mipha before. He’s had a fling with his coworker, Ravio. He’s had a fling with Midna. But he’s not sure what he’s into. He’s into food and sleeping. That much he knows for sure. Food and sleep are things he’ll always be into. People? He’s not sure. He’ll consider them when he has the time. 

 

“Is he cute?” Midna asks, typing the garbage back and popping into the back room to toss the bag away. “‘Cause if he’s hot enough, I might be able to forgive him being a dick.”

 

“I was too focused on trying not to tell him to fuck off, to consider if he was attractive.” Link rubs at his eyes and closes his social media and goes back to attempting to read the article. “He just kept sneering and smirking like he knew this job better than us.”

 

“What color were his eyes.”

 

“Green, why --”

 

“You were looking at him long enough to notice his eye color, so, I’m thinking.” Link looks up and Midna is pushing down his laptop monitor. “You took a moment to judge if he was hot. Don’t you lie to me, I can read ya like a suburban mom’s text message.”

 

Link leans back in his seat, covering his face again, groaning softly. “Yeah, alright fine -- maybe that’s why his attitude got to me. It’s not fair that a guy that looks good has to be that rude.” Midna giggles. It’s a cheeky, knowing sort of giggle as she reaches out and combs her fingers through his hair.

 

“Most of the best guys are. S’why I prefer girls.” At this point she does close his laptop and shoos him. “Go nap or something. We haven’t had someone in an hour. I’ll bug ya when the rush starts.”

  
  


It’s ten of seven when Midna wakes him from his nap, citing that he slept a good thirty minutes longer than she’d expected him to. Apron back on, Link accepts that he needs to get himself moving again. Mipha’s already arrived and been making drinks in Links stead while he rested up.

 

“Good Morning, sleeping beauty.” She teases as Link yawns, washing his hands before he takes her place. “Feeling better today?”

 

He offers her a faint smile, scratching at the back of his head somewhat sheepishly. Midna’s opted to stay a bit later than her shift, and as far as Link’s aware, it’s probably because she wants to see if the problem customer returns. Mipha steps aside and lets Link finish the drink she’d started -- medium mocha with added caramel, no whipped cream, 2% milk. 

 

And not a second after Link begins to steam the milk does he look up -- and it’s  _ him _ .

 

He rolls his eyes, scoffing, and opting to  _ not _ acknowledge the guy, instead focusing on the drink at hand. The girl at the end of the counter looks to be a student, probably a high school girl, and she is much more pleasant to look at than  _ that _ guy. She’s wearing a smile, and  _ that _ guy is wearing a scowl and Link doesn’t want to deal with it. He slides the drink to the girl, wishes her a good day, and starts to poise himself closer to Mipha in the event he starts to give her even the slightest semblance of an attitude.   
  
(From the other side of the register, Midna mouths ‘Oh my god, is that him?’ followed by a soft, but audible, ‘Holy shit.’)

 

Revali is dressed in a suit, and from the looks of it, it’s name brand and specifically tailored to the guy. It’s impeccably fitted to his torso, outlining his features and elongating him. His hair today isn’t slicked back, but instead is brushed professionally to the side, just faintly masking the side of his face. His brows are knit together, but Link suspects this is natural for him. Perfectly matched to his almost unnaturally bright, emerald eyes.

 

(Link catches himself. Midna is absolutely right. He has stared at Revali long enough to determine his attractiveness.)   
  
Link opens his mouth, prepared to tell him to watch himself, but Revali holds up his hands, and clasps them together. His lips purse together, and he pulls them into a smile, much to the surprise of the cafe employees. Revali inhales quickly, and exhales just as fast. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.” He announces, almost apologetically. “I was absolutely, unnecessarily crass with you yesterday morning, and I’d like to make it up to you.”

 

Link can’t help but scoff. This draws Revali’s gaze as he focuses on him.

 

“You especially, I brought that drink to my father yesterday, and he told me you made it exactly as he orders it, and I’m just simply not accustomed to his palette.” Revali confesses, with a strange amount of class and civility for someone who had given them such a hard time the day before. Link isn’t buying it, his arms crossed over his chest somewhat aggressively. Perhaps trying to make a statement. This is his cafe. His people. He doesn’t like Revali’s attitude. And he’s not going to accept the apology so easily.

 

“Oh, well thank you!” Mipha is quick to accept the apology, as is natural for her. She’s very much a supporter of forgive and forget when someone owns up to their behavior, but it still doesn’t sit well with Link. Midna, on the other hand has caught Links gaze and opted to wiggle her eyebrows a little bit at him. “I appreciate your willingness to apologize, can we get anything for you today?”

 

Revali, noticing that Link hasn’t accepted yet, rubs his hands together. “Well, I was thinking, going the same route as my father -- going off the menu. Specialty drinks, maybe?”

 

_ Oh great _ . Link says to himself. He silently prays to himself that the words he dreads aren’t going to come out.

 

“How about, barista’s choice?”

 

God damn it.

 

“Oooh, good one~” Midna chimes eagerly as she reaches over Mipha and begins to punch a few buttons on the registers screen. “Link’s always good at coming up with good drinks. I’m sure he’d be glad to make you something fun. Anything you  _ don’t  _ want in a drink?”

 

“I’m new to coffee.” Revali says with a smile, “Surprise me.”

  
  


Revali leans on the edge of the bar as he watches Link work. He’s pleased with himself. He’s made the employees here change their mind about him. Well, two of them he supposes. This quiet guy on the bar seems to still have it out for him. He watches, noticing what he pulls out. Caramel. Coconut. Chocolate. Revali’s not the biggest fan of coconut, but he’ll test the guy. See what he has in mind.

 

“You know, you really ought to talk to your customers while you’re working.” Revali says. “My father says that to truly master your craft, you need to learn how to talk idly while doing it.”   
  
“I wouldn’t say this is my craft.” Link replies quickly as he measures milk into a steaming pitcher with the flavors added to it. “It’s my job.”    
  
Revali stares at him momentarily, a brow quirked as he leans up and checks his watch. It’s ten after seven. He’ll have plenty of time to stick around here if he needs to. “So why do it if it’s not your craft?”

 

Link stops and stares at him for a moment. “ _ Because it’s my job _ .”   
  
A grimace falls upon Revalis face as he stands upright as Link tamps the espresso in place before latching the handle in place. “So get a different one? With whatever your craft  _ is _ .”

  
“Going to school for it,” the barista says quietly. “We can’t all be blessed with good fortune like your highness.”

Revali stops and stares at Link as he pulls the shots of espresso and begins to pour them into the cup he’s selected. His father had often told him about how delightful and charming the staff at this cafe were, but this barista is. Very much the opposite of what he was expecting.

 

“What on earth is your problem? I came back here to apologize for yesterday, and you’re giving me a hard time. Your cashier did, so why can’t you? Here I am, letting you make another drink for me, I even left you a few extra dollars -- that’s what motivates you, isn’t it? Tips? -- and you’re still being rude to me. I don’t understand.”

 

Link sets the drink upon the bar, and slides it toward him.

 

“You’d like to know?” Link asks quietly, as he wipes off the steam wand.

 

“I would.” Revali insists, taking the drink almost with some aggression in his gesture.

 

Link smiles and reaches out to place a lid on top of the cup for Revali.

 

“I just don’t like you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huehue, so did I mention this is gonna be slowburn? Like not thirty chapters before they like one another. But more like. They're not gonna like one another for AT LEAST another two chapters.


	3. 2% Mocha with Caramel and Coconut With an Extra Double Shot; No Whip

“Honestly, Dad, I don’t understand why you like that place so much. Just go to Starbucks. At least there’s consistency in what they have and they don’t give you the run around like that little shitshow.” Revali snorts as he sits in the oval, leather chair in his dad’s office, swiveling about on it, staring down what he concludes to have been the worst drink he’s had in his lift. He’s set the drink on the desks edge instead of throwing it out. He wants to make sure everyone in his fathers office can taste what a nasty piece of work they gave him. He wants to make sure everyone hates the place and will  _ never _ go there. Not even for black coffee.

 

“I probably set your expectations too high.” his father says as he spins around in his seat. Barty is a portly man with bushy eyebrows and a scruffy looking beard. A rather scholarly look to him. He doesn’t appear to be the sort of man who is running a business such as this. It might appear to be just a local trading firm, but they have connections worldwide. It started small. Just assisting in the delivery of goods and services to local businesses. But over time, and with investments in the right fields, their connections spanned globally. And Revali is about to inherit this business. At the front of his desk, a few inches from the abandoned latte sits a placard: Barty Kaneli.   
  
He leans over the desk and snatches up the coffee that his son has since abandoned and taken a sip from the lids edge. Revali waits. He’s waiting for that look of absolute disgust to wash over him, proving he was right. He can feel himself smirking, knowing all too well that the bratty barista at that cafe did him wrong --

 

“Possibly the best I’ve had in quite some time.” Barty says warmly as he opts to keep the drink for himself. “Link, that barista -- the best they have you know. Remember when I came down with the flu last year? The boy figured out a tea drink for me that took away the burning in my chest. It’s a shame he’s not planning on staying there after school. He makes a fine drink. Could probably open his own cafe if he wanted. The boy did say it’s crossed his mind.”

 

Revali was stunned. Mouth agape and eyes open wide, he leans forward in his seat, sputting in disbelief. “There’s no way he talked to you.” He snorts, as he relaxes himself. He doesn’t want to come off as losing his cool. Not in front of his own father. “He barely said a word to me, and the entire time he was cold. And rude. And I don’t deserve to be treated the way he treated me.”

 

“He’s a hard nut to crack, Rev.” Barty said as he opened his desk, retrieving some sort of document he needed to have his secretary deliver to be edited. But he’d do that later. He had a coffee to enjoy, albeit a cooled down one. “He’s very protective of his coworkers. Told me since moving out here, they’re all he has.”

 

“Oh  _ come on _ !” Revali bursts, arms thrown in the air. “I couldn’t get the guy to say anything to me! He just gave me attitude!”

 

“Like I said, hard to crack. He’s a bit like your brother-in-law.”

 

“Teba?” He stifles a laugh. “Oh no, no, Teba’s just stubborn. This kid was just bitter.”

 

“And so is Teba. And I’ve still accepted his wishes to marry Saki.” Revali rolls his eyes, and for a brief second, his father is looking at his son as a six year old boy all over again. “Revali, I’m saying, you’re not giving him a chance. He makes a good drink, and my tastes happen to not be yours. Go back in. Apologize for your behavior,” Revali opens his mouth to protest. “Don’t try to defend yourself to me, boy. You know as well as I do that you have quite the attitude. I raised you to anticipate the best from others, but to expect and respect their struggles. Seems you’ve forgotten the other part as of late.”

 

“I’ll respect him if he doesn’t give me a hard time.”

 

“Then I’m afraid he’ll continue to give you a hard time.” Barty takes a sip of his drink, a bit unhappy that it’s gone a bit cool. But it’s to be expected. Revali had ordered the drink over an hour earlier and even with the extra-hot temperature, it was still going to reach its cooler points by this time. “You cannot expect everyone to be nice to you and bend over backwards to please you if you don’t treat them with kindness. I didn’t build this business stepping on the lives of others. It’s rare you find lines of work like mine that aren’t founded on the principles of common decency. I should hope you would know that. Anyone who can’t follow these morals likely doesn’t have a place here.”

 

It’s then, that it makes sense to Revali. What this peptalk is all about. It’s not just his father being a father and lecturing his son. It’s a boss, reprimanding his employee. Revali grips his hands on to the arm rests of his seat and sits himself upright, a brow quirked in inquiry. “Are you telling me that  _ I _ don’t have a place running your business?” His voice is sharp, perhaps even cold.

 

“Something similar, but not quite.” Barty says quietly. “I’d like for you to become more humbled before I simply turn this position over to you. Part of this line of work has been learning about what people need, and what people endure on a daily basis. Just because you have very little to work for,” He feels himself cringe. His father just inadvertently insulted him. “Doesn’t mean that others don’t have to suffer through every day to make ends meet.”

 

“Maybe because he’s going through shit, he should at least have the sense to be nicer to people for how he acts.”

 

“Consider that he’s overworked, Revali. Consider that he may not sleep a lot. May not eat. Might be failing his courses. Consider that he’s working hard, and nothing is coming of it.” His father takes his drink and turns around in his seat, essentially dismissing his son. “At the very least: apologize.”

  
  
  


And so. Revali is left. Staring dead ahead at that barista, whom he’s been told to consider his struggles. His workload. His  _ life _ . The barista whom he offered an apology to. The barista who went out of his way to make Revali a damn drink of his own choosing. (Okay so Revali asked him essentially to come up with it on the spot). And he’s announcing rather confidently his dislike of him.   
  
“Well,” Revali says, before he can bring himself to take a sip of the drink which he feels is going to taste terrible now, just because of the taste lingering in his mouth. “If that’s the case.” He inhales, briskly through his nose. “I’ll have to keep coming back here until you change your mind.”

 

He turns. Says not another word, and heads out of the cafe. He doesn’t let the door slam. Doesn’t leave with a huff. But in his mind, he’s screaming. What a completely selfish, bratty, rude guy. Here he was, coming in to offer an apology and it gets thrown back in his face! What the  _ hell _ was his father thinking. He showed the guy some respect, and he’s still treated with coldness and near silence from the kid at the bar.   
  
(He had to be a kid. No adult would be that rude.)   
  
(He...did say he was in school right? Revali could barely hear him.)

 

He wants to tear out his hair but instead, he composes himself. A few people have slowed down as they pass him, seeming to be clued in to his irritated aura. He needs to calm. Be zen. Find himself a better state of mind. That’s what people do. They overcome the negative emotions by thinking positive. And that’s all he had to do. Visit his father again today, tell him he apologized and lie a little. Say everything went well.

 

He takes a sip of his drink finally, and concludes that, well. His father might be right. It reminds him of hot chocolate. He can hardly taste the coffee in the drink, as he’s momentarily lost in the flavor of chocolate, coconut and caramel. Revali’s surprised to admit he likes the taste of coconut in this drink. It’s smooth and bright as it swirls with the blend of flavors that he’s discovered. Alright. So the kid can make a good drink. Then again. Revali usually sticks to plain coffee, loaded with milk and sugar. He doesn’t know what a good latte is in the first place.   
  
He’s calm, he decides as he lowers the drink from his mouth. “Dad doesn’t have to know. I can tell him I apologized. Things went well. And I have learned to respect the kid. I never have to go back there if I don’t want to. I’ll be a fuzzy memory to them. I won’t have to see them. They won’t have to see me.”

  
  
  


“You don’t just learn how to be humble after a single apology.” Barty says as Revali internally begins to throw a tantrum. “Being civil with people in a different working class isn’t a single time lesson. It’s not just saying you’re sorry to end an argument. It’s a life change.”   
  
For what it’s worth, it’s become clear to Barty Kaneli that Revali knows what his game is. He absolutely will not leave this company to his son acting the way he is. “Oh come on, dad! You know I’m a good guy! The girls there accepted my apology and were really welcoming to me, so what’s the deal?!”

 

“The  _ deal _ is that if you’re going to treat cafe employees with such aggression upon first meeting them, and only making up for your shortcomings after being scolded by your  _ parent _ , then how am I to expect you to treat your employees and business partners with respect?”

 

He couldn’t believe himself as he heard himself speak. “Well, because money’s involved.”

 

And he stops. He watches his father lean back in his seat, arms folded upon the desk. A knowing smile rests upon his lips, nodding.

 

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Smile fades, replaced by a forlorn expression, eyes downcast as he searches for what to say. “I raised you too long in a business world. While profits are ultimately our goal in this sort of environment, Revali. I pride myself on putting my employees before profits. Each and every person who works for me has a life. Has goals. Dreams. Ambitions. And if you can only see your workers as monetary figures, then I’m placing this company in the wrong hands.”

 

Revali is silent. He knows what’s going to be said next.

 

“You still have a few years before I’m due to retire. I know the plan had been to leave this company both to you and your sister, but she’s proven to me that she has my best interests in mind for this job. Not just in recent years, but over the course of her life. I should expect you to make some kind of turnaround in the next year or so, if I’m still to consider you my heir to the business.”

 

Revali swallows, his throat feels thick as he stands, lifting his drink from the desk. “I understand, father.” He admits, the harsh words cutting into his reality. “I’ll, I’ll see myself out then.”   
  
“What did he make you?” Barty follows up as Revali begins to head for the door.

 

“Some sort of hot chocolate coffee thing. With caramel and coconut in it.” He answers, looking at the cup and the weird scrbbles on the side. “S’pretty good.”

 

“Ah, sounds like a mocha with a little extra.” Barty adds. “You don’t even like coconut, what’s with the change of heart?”

 

“I said barista’s choice when I went there this morning.” He says, trying to decipher the letters on the paper. “I don’t know, it’s pretty good though.”

 

Barty smiles, it’s a fond one. Not the smile of a boss to an employee but a father to a son. “Bring me mine next time you stop by, will you?” And Revali nods, smiling back as a son to a father.

  
His future is absolutely screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. The drink Link made for Revali is actually one of my favorite drinks. You make it by steaming milk (I prefer soy) with the caramel, chocolate and coconut mixed in, and pouring it over a quad shot of espresso. I call it a Samoa, like the girl scout cookie. 
> 
> I may be adding my favorite drinks throughout the fic, so keep your eyes peeled.

**Author's Note:**

> Almost the entire story's been plotted out, it's just a matter of making myself write this.  
> This fic will likely get an M rating later on, juuuust saying.


End file.
